Fulcrum
by Salazarfalcon
Summary: Just when Pascal mentally admits to The Thing, Malik has to go and one-up her. What an asshole.


Fulcrum

* * *

Summary: Just when Pascal mentally admits to The Thing, Malik has to go and one-up her. What an asshole.

* * *

Disclaimer: Nope nope nope.

* * *

AN: Yep. Yeeeeeep.

* * *

Pascal knows she should have been worried when she's in a bar, not with Captain Malik, but with Cheria. _Cheria_. Cheria Barnes who gives her the most intense side eye she's ever seen on a regular basis is sitting at a bar, knocking back shot after shot like she does it on the regular.

Pascal wonders if she should stop her.

... _naaaaaaah_.

"See," Cheria says, speech slightly slurred, which is annoying because Pascal would probably have been flat on her ass at this point, "You're the only one I can go to."

Oh god.

"Somethin' wrong, Cheria?" she asks, "Not with you and Asbel..."

Cheria drops her head to the table and peers out from under her arms.

"Not a _problem_ ," she replies, "But a problem. And, well, I don't have a whole lot of girlfriends and _Sophie_ can't help, and I don't even know if you can help but i'm willing to try because I'm sad and desperate and drunk enough to ask you."

And, well, Cheria is one of Pascal's best friends even if sometimes she's a little too judgey for her liking so Pascal shimmies the next shot in the line away from her and downs it. It burns a little but she feels like she needs it.

"Awright, then. Hit me."

"Pascal, have you ever had sex?"

The next shot gets spat out on the table.

" _What_?"

Looking miserable and mortified, Cheria repeats her question. It's not like Pascal minds talking about it but it's basically the opposite of what she was expecting.

"You've probably had lots of boyfriends," she continues, "You're pretty, a-and fun, and Asbel is gonna think I'm bad in bed because I've never done it before and not want to marry me."

Pascal is not anywhere near drunk enough for this. Nevertheless, she reaches out a hand and pats Cheria on the shoulder. If she cries, she doesn't know what she's gonna do. When Pascal gets drunk and cries, on the rare occasion that she drinks when she's upset, Malik closes her tab and carries her off somewhere to sleep it off. Somehow, she doesn't think that will fly in this case.

"Look, Cheria, I'm pretty sure Asbel would be more surprised if you _weren't_ a virgin," she says finally, "Besides, sex isn't a big deal."

"Everybody says it is!"

"Dude, everybody does their own thing," Pascal argues. "What I do works for me."

Shit, Cheria is definitely going to cry. New tactic, stat!

"Have you talked to anybody about it before? Even Asbel?"

The bundle of red curls on the table shakes slowly back and forth and Cheria mumbles sadly, "I told you, no girlfriends. I've never talked about sex at all. Just...books sometimes." Trying to be soothing, Pascal pats her shoulder again. She doesn't think it's working.

"Do you want to talk to me about it, then?" Because Pascal's got no shame and Cheria is a friend in need. Maybe she'll have to hold certain names back in the discussion but other than that she's got nothing to hide. "I'll tell you _everything_ , okay, what do you want to know?"

"...is it as fun as people say it is?" Cheria asks, still sounding close to tears but with a generous dollop of curiosity mixed in. Pascal shrugs.

"Depends on the person," she says. "I've had really good and really crappy. The most important part is to tell your partner what you like or when something isn't good. Otherwise they won't know."

"What if I don't know what I like?"

"Then you just say when something's good. Nobody knows what they like right away, so you'll have to try different things. Trust me, you'll know when something's good and you'll definitely know when something sucks. And some stuff your partner will probably like and you'll be all _ehhhhh_ about it but it's not necessarily bad or awesome, so you can keep that in reserve for when you wanna be really nice to them." Pascal thinks back to a particular incident that involved an exceptionally drawn out blowjob in exchange for banana cream pie. In bed.

Yeah, that was a fun one.

Better not to mention names on that one.

"Does it...hurt? The books said it hurt a lot."

Pascal scowls.

"If it hurts, you make him stop until it doesn't," she says insistently. "If it hurts it means he's not being careful with you."

"How do I make it not hurt?"

Pascal is really, really not drunk enough for this.

"Hey, Bartender," she pipes up, "I'll take whatever she's been drinking. I'm not cut out for girl talk." Pascal is absolutely not cut out for girl talk. When she gets her shot, she knocks it back. "It makes it easier if you prep yourself first. You know, get used to toys and stuff so it's not such a big size difference. And that'll make it easier for you to relax. That's important, too," she muses, "Always make sure to relax, otherwise you won't have fun. And it _should_ be fun." She knows that a lot of people have serious business sex but she's not one of those people. It's just not her style.

"Hey Cheria, you love Asbel, right?"

Cheria jerks upright and glares, red spilling over her cheeks.

"Of course I do! That's why I'm marrying him..."

"Then you gotta let yourself have fun. If you don't let yourself relax and enjoy yourself, it's not gonna be fun for you or him. And Asbel doesn't wanna hurt you either."

"Have you loved everyone you've been with?"

The question's startling and Pascal doesn't expect it. Not really. It also requires some thought, as well as another drink. Eventually she can't lie to herself and the answer's obvious.

"Nah," she answers finally, "I'm not the sort of person who has to love someone to sleep with them."

"Some of them, though? _One_ of them, at least?"

Pascal can't keep from thinking about The Thing and tries to shake it out of her head. She doesn't know if she loves Malik; she doesn't even if she knows what love is. If love is what Malik feels for Lorelia that puts him in such agony, she doesn't think she wants to. "It is...it's better with feelings though," she amends, because it is. There've been some people she slept with and didn't kiss because kissing implies sentiment and Pascal kisses with affection first. "And it's nice when you know they care about you and not just because you're easy and available." She's had that too, slept with people because they were there and been okay with the fact that it was for the same reason from them.

It's not enough now, though.

That's the problem with caring about people, she decides. It spoils you for everything else.

"When someone cares about you and makes you feel safe, it's easier and more fun because you know they won't hurt you, and you can be silly and laugh too much and make stupid jokes and want to punch them in the face sometimes and it's still good. There's no need to fake it."

Pascal doesn't notice the door open so she continues.

"And it sucks sometimes too, because it's easier sometimes to not care but so much better when you do even though sometimes they'll hurt you and it's even worse when they're in pain and you can't help," And Pascal remembers the past Christmas and feels sort of like crying hard until nothing's confusing anymore.

"...Pascal?" Cheria asks and brushes fingertips to Pascal's cheeks. They come away wet.

Shit. Shit.

She needs to stop drinking.

"I just need him to feel better," the words come out ragged and painful and who's comforting who now? "I don't want to hurt him." Pascal's fine. Pascal doesn't need comforting. Pascal's fine.

Pascal's kind of drunk and practically bawling in a bar and she _still_ sucks at girl talk.

Everything is awful and she needs a hug.

She doesn't hear Cheria's noise of surprise until there are arms around her and she's being manhandled half off the stool into a broad chest that's very familiar to her.

"Geez, you're an idiot," Malik rumbles. Pascal hears his voice less than she feels it from his throat, roughened in a way that's kind of strange. "All you ever had to do was say something, you moron." Pascal's silent tears become legitimate sobs and he sighs, not put-upon at all, and scoops her up entirely to park himself at her stool. "C'mere, then. It's fine. You're fine."

"I...I think I may have missed something," Cheria says very quietly, wide-eyed as her gaze darts from Pascal to Malik to Pascal again, before sharpening minutely. "I definitely missed something."

"Join the club," Malik informs her drily even as he runs his hand through Pascal's hair, red and white strands slipping through his fingers like liquid instead. "Hey, you good?" Pascal is not good. Pascal kind of sucks a whole heckuva lot right now. "Alright then. Alright. Alright."

"...I knew something was up," Cheria says finally, "But you weren't the one who occurred to me."

Malik snorts.

"You were figuring Hubert." He doesn't ask, just states a fact. "Yeah. She'd eat him alive. Metaphorically speaking."

"Asbel thinks it's a thing, too. I'm not sure whether he'll be disappointed or relieved."

"Does it matter?" There's only the barest bit of defense in the question but it's unnecessary. Cheria shakes her head.

"No. As long as you're happy. I know," she continues quieter, "Everyone thinks I'm judgey sometimes. And that I'm dippy, and kind of a prude, and naive. And that's why people don't tell me things. Maybe I am. But I'm not stupid." She levels Malik with a slightly tipsy stare that's more inebriated than her words. "I want you guys to be happy. I want her to be happy. Maybe it's because my own happiness fell into my lap and I'm just that self-centered that I want everyone to be as happy as I am, but I don't care."

"...I don't think it's self-centered. Not unless we all are." Malik looks down and shakes Pascal, very gently, Pascal who's gone quiet. Too quiet. Pascal's never quiet.

Pascal is asleep with the remnants of tears on her cheeks.

"God," he grumbles, "You dumbass."

"Your dumbass," Cheria says pointedly. Malik groans a little.

"Yeah. My dumbass."

"You're a dumbass too."

"Yeah."

" _Her_ dumbass."

Malik goes very still and then sighs, just once. Ruffles Pascal's hair.

"Yep," he replies finally, "Hers." He looks at her sideways. "How drunk are you, really?"

"Drunk enough that I don't mind asking intimate questions about other people's sex lives and getting myself involved in other people's business."

Fair enough. Ask a smartass question, get a smartass answer. That it's from Cheria makes no difference. Honestly it makes it better.

"Maybe you should quit while you're ahead." Because as in control of her faculties as Cheria is now, that doesn't mean anything later on down the road.

"Oh, I'm done. I'll sober up soon."

"Want us to wait around with you?"

Cheria waves off his concern and rummages around in her pocket to pull out what looks like a little bird. One of Pascal's communicators?

"Asbel should be on his way. I messaged him a bit after Pascal arrived because I knew he'd take a while. You go and take care of her."

Malik laugh-snorts. Never underestimate a woman. He ought to know that by now. So he listens to her, shifts Pascal in his arms so she's easier to hold and slides off the stool, passing over a handful of gald to the bartender as well as a generous tip. "Hers too," he gestures to Cheria with a jerk of his head. The woman huffs a little but lets him pay, probably because Pascal chooses that moment to stir slightly, distracting Malik enough that he nearly drops the payment on the floor.

Malik carries Pascal down the set of steps out into the street. She's still in his arms and the pavement is steady under his feet. Winter is mostly over but there's still a thin dusting of snow on the ground and a chill in the air that's keeping it there. It's not Fendel, but it's still cold. They're staying in the same inn this time but Malik bypasses Pascal's room entirely on the way to his own. He could put her in her own bed but he's not going to.

His room's exactly how he left it-basically empty except for a change of clothes or two and some necessities, the same things he's been packing for years, and Malik sets Pascal down on the bed, pulls off her boots and utility belt, and just looks at her for a minute.

Idiot.

Almost as if she can hear his thoughts, Pascal begins to stir, rolling over a little and clenching her hands in the sheets. Malik's seen her do that before but it's usually for other reasons than a drunken sleep.

Slightly bleary amber eyes open.

"...Malik?" she mumbles.

Malik reaches out and ruffles her hair as she sits up.

"Hey."

"Hey." She stretches and blinks at him. "How did I...?"

"Lets just say you decided the bar was a good place for a nap."

Pascal shifts her gaze to the bedspread and twists her hands in her lap.

"...oh," she says finally. "Oh."

"Oh, indeed," Malik replies and parks himself on the edge of the bed. Pascal steadfastly refuses to look him in the eye or even acknowledge his existence. Because they're both grown-ups and that's what grown-ups do. "Care to explain what was up with that?"

She grits her teeth.

"...I have a thing."

"...I see. That tells me exactly nothing."

Red slowly begins to spread across Pascal's cheeks and Malik raises an eyebrow. Blushing? That's unusual if it's from embarrassment. That woman does not embarrass easily, if at all.

Her twisting hands twist harder.

"...I didn't want a thing, but it happened anyway. I thought it was okay that we did that sort of stuff without all the schmoopy, couple-y crap…"

"...do you _want_ schmoopy, couple-y crap?"

Pascal very vehemently shakes her head.

"No!" she exclaims and goes even redder. "I just….ugh. This is embarrassing." Malik's fairly certain he's never seen Pascal legitimately embarrassed over anything. This is a first. "I just...like in the beginning I would have been okay with having fun with you and then everything else is your business, you know? I don't want to be like a girlfriend; I don't want to make you feel like you're tied down and take away all your choices and options….but now it's a- a thing. I meant what I said to Cheria earlier. It used to be okay when we were just bros who messed around a lot but now...I'd care if I knew you were doing things with people other than me, and I hate seeing you upset, and I want to be someone who can make you happy, and I have a thing and I don't like it."

Malik chews idly on his thumbnail and sighs a little. The more she talks, the more pieces fall into place.

"So let me get this straight, just so I'm sure I understand. You're upset because you care about me more than you wanted to, and want me around as more than just a fuck buddy. Right?"

Pascal won't look him in the eyes.

Now he does sigh.

"You moron," he grumbles, "I haven't slept with anyone but you since we started. Who told you that you have to be gross like that...what have you been reading?"

"Boyfriends are what you have when you're thirteen and think you'll be married by twenty," Pascal says with no small amount of resentment in her voice, like she's reciting an old adage that sticks in her throat. "Girls who have boyfriends end up with husbands. I've never had that and I don't want that."

Something hot and almost angry uncoils in Malik's stomach.

"You….god, you're an asshole. I don't want that either. What kind of relationship would that be? That's not something I've _ever_ wanted."

There it is, then. Pascal visibly droops and drags a pillow closer, hugs it to her chest. Before she can move away entirely, Malik stops her with a large hand wrapping around her arm.

"You say you care about me more than a friend would...you say you'd be upset if I slept with someone else...you say you hate it when I'm upset and you want to make me happy? I want all those things too. God. Pascal...I thought this was stuff we'd already established, I didn't think we actually had to talk about it. I'm over 40; I don't want to get married either and I don't expect you to want to marry me. But I care about you and I like being with you more than being with anyone else. As long as that's how you feel too, then I don't need you to feel like you need to give me anything else. By your definition, I've never been anyone's boyfriend and I'm not starting now. Boyfriends are what you have when you're thirteen and expect to be married by twenty," Malik repeats, "I'm better than that and you are too."

"I think we missed the window on twenty," Pascal whispers and finally manages to stop looking like he's going to hit her.

"Yep. Sorry, pal." Malik ruffles her hair. "You're doomed to a lifetime without pubescent poetry or having to defend yourself whenever you go out with friends."

"...I can be okay with that."

"Good," he replies and sidles closer, yanking the pillow out of her hands and dragging her into a hug, "Good."

Pascal relaxes in his hold and drops her face into his shoulder, whuffing into the patch of skin that brushes her nose.

And then bites down.

"I thought we were having a moment!" Malik yelps and receives Pascal's typical form of apology in the form of a brief nuzzle with her nose and then a kiss that lingers. He pulls her up and kisses her on the cheek; the sharp taste of salt hitting his tongue when he licks his lips after.

"You're stupid," Pascal murmurs and sags against him. Malik's surprised when something tight and tense uncoils in his stomach when her fingertips press firmly against his back. She's never been passive, and she's only held him once where he didn't hold her back. Once, just once, and never again. Those fingers press imprints into his skin and briefly, not for the first time, Malik wishes he could burn them in so they would never leave.

He's a lot of things and selfish has always been at the top of the list.

He wants to keep her, forever if he can.

There's time later for that, though, and when he presses her down into the blankets all he can think is,

 _Speak for yourself._

* * *

AN2: Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed this, please leave a review to let me know what you think!


End file.
